My Moon
by The Tribe
Summary: Ichigo, like many children, once believed the moon watched over him. Now that he's lost his shinigami powers, will she still? Very short multichaptered ficlet. Warning: contains feelings.
1. My Moon

"Mommy?"

"Yes, dear?" she had replied, bending to hover over me, a sweet smile pulling at her lips. She was always so gentle, peaceable. Placid among the hectic nature of our family.

"Is the moon real?"

Amiably, she laughed, the sound as soft as the clinking of ice. "Of course it is, sweetheart. Why would you think otherwise?"

Well, she didn't have to laugh. I pouted."Sometimes I see things that nobody else can."

"That doesn't mean they're not real," she answered simply.

"But can everyone else see the moon?"

"Yep."

"Then why is it following me?"

Silently contemplating my question, she looked to the sky. "Maybe it's looking after you, for when I can't. The moon doesn't really go away during the day either. It's keeping on eye on you, that's all. You know," she continued, "the sun and the moon. It's sort of like a love story. Without the moon, the sun would be lonely, even when it has all of the earth to itself. Nighttime is the only time we see them together."

"Huh?"

She explained, "See, the moon only shines because the sun does."

"Mommy, you're not making any sense."

"No, I suppose I'm not," she giggled. "But someday, Ichigo, I think you'll understand. You'll be someone's sun, and she'll be your moon. She'll look after you, and you'll shine together."

I wrinkled my nose.

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><p>I look up at the sky, absent of any sort of spiritual pressure. All around me, I feel the air, thick and potent with nothing. In the back of my mind, there is a constant gnawing, a reminder: what is between the air? When I speak to someone living, am I speaking through someone dead?<p>

Shivering, I zip my sweatshirt further up, my eyes still focused on the sky.

Light pollution has blotted out all the stars, leaving it tar black, but it only seems to enhance the moon's ghostly beauty. After all this time, it's still been watching over me.

It's strange, sitting here on the roof without Rukia. It's even stranger that I find that strange. It's not like we haven't been apart before, but this time there was a finality to it. A last goodbye. The last goodbye.

Again, the question skitters through my brain, down my spine: Will I ever see her again?

And again, I turn to the moon. They aren't so different, Rukia and the moon. I sigh through my nose. Why do I feel so alone? I have my family, my friends.

What was it Mom had said about the sun and the moon? Without the moon, the sun would be lonely, even when it has all of the earth to itself. I may not have her, but I know that at one point I did. She once told me that she'd find me by any means necessary, whether or not that applied to this situation, I don't care. I have faith in her. Dusk will come.

A soft laugh falls from my mouth. She's only been gone a day, and what a sap I've become. Tearing my eyes away from the night sky, I turn to my right.

"I wonder if you're still here," I mutter, pretending she is. I can just make her out, sitting with Yuzu's dress tucked over her bent knees, arms hugging her legs to her chest. The imaginary Rukia turns to me, smiling.

A flame blooms within my chest, my spirits buffeted further by the imagined figure. She may not be around, but she'll come back, no matter how long it takes. I know she will. Yes, I answer the question still buzzing at my spine. Yes, I will see her again. But in the meantime, I'll just have to live.

Even though I can't see her, she'll be watching over me. My moon.


	2. My Sun

A/N: I was only half-toying with the idea of writing a sequel-ish ficlet thingumabob, but then a little thing I like to call sleep deprivation and StrawberriBunnehz's inspiration inspired me. Please don't ask how my brain works, you don't want to know. Anyway, here's some more angsty goodness.

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><p>"I wonder if you're still here," he mumbles to himself, looking to his right.<p>

On his left, I sit with my legs tucked to my chest, my head resting on my knees."You're looking the wrong way, dummy," I murmur under my breath.

I want to scream, but know it's pointless.

"I wish we had done this more often," I sigh aloud.

In that moment, my mind had been racing. So many thoughts and ideas and _words _I could have spoken, flying around my head like feathers in a chicken's coop someone had let a fox loose on. So many things I could have said to reassure him that this wasn't permanent, to tell him how much he means to me, that I just couldn't properly articulate. Only a pathetic sound escaped me. Even now, that event seems so surreal: my body disappearing before his eyes, his spiritual pressure dissipating before mine. Like water, evaporating to create yet more rain.

We'd both had enough of that.

Stupidly, I reach out, my hand ghosting over his shoulder, hovering before reality hits me. My hand passes through him. It's unpleasant, feeling nothing where something should be. Retreating, I hold it before me, studying it. There was a time when I could touch him all I wanted. Why didn't I?

Gladly, I'd give him my powers again, but we can't afford that. Happily, I'd purchase a gigai, but my duty is in Soul Society. Willingly, I'd give up the world for him, but the world is not mine to give. And the question remains: _Why?_

Finally, this is his chance at a normal existence. Isn't this what he's always wanted? I was the one who changed his world, effectively ruining his life. Is it wrong of me to want him to stay? Selfish as it may be, I want to wrench him from this new world of his back into mine. "Normal" be damned. We need him.

I need him.

Newly restored determination flows through me, and I stand up, fists clenched. I'll find a way. I'll return. All I can hope for is that he waits for me.

Abruptly, he stands too. I jump slightly, heart leaping into my throat. Alas, he is only leaving the roof. I am being an idiot, of course. No matter how hard I wish, he does not see me. He does not hear me. He does not touch me.

He walks right through me.


	3. Shining Together

A/N: I know some of you were hoping to see how the couple coped with their 17 month separation, but Kubo didn't go into details for a reason: it's downright inane and, well, overly depressing. Special thanks to my lovely beta reader for suggesting the concept of this entire chapter as well as the title. Without her, this would never have been written.

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><p>Colliding with color, the clouds gather around the sun as it sinks in the distance. On the roof of the Kurosaki Clinic, Ichigo and Rukia watch the clouds transform before their eyes, sitting side by side.<p>

Rukia does not speak of the last time they were on this roof, the night she left. She does not dare. Ichigo doesn't bring it up, but she is just as he imagined her that night: wearing a purple dress she has borrowed from his sister, hugging her knees to her chest. No, she's not _just_ like the girl he had imagined: this Rukia is different. Stronger. And _r__eal_.

Between them, there is only silence. What is this feeling? wonders Ichigo. It's a sort of contentment. He forgot what it was like to feel completely comfortable around another person. He doesn't have to put up a front with Rukia, she knows him through and through. He doesn't have to force himself to smile, she brings it out naturally. What do people call that feeling?

Rukia turns to him, smiling.

Home, he realizes. That's what people call it.

He continues to watch her as a pale hand rises and she fluffs her short hair.

"Still not used to that hair cut?" inquires Ichigo.

"Mm. Do you like it?" she asks thoughtlessly, a sly grin creeping up on her face.

Ichigo nearly chokes on his own tongue. "Y-you'd look fine with anything."

She doesn't know why, but she feels a giggle bubbling inside her, which she just dares to let out, as he harrumphs sullenly beside her. However, he doesn't retract the statement or defend it; he just lets it be.

They don't speak of the last, painful 17 months apart—they don't need to. All they know is that they missed each other. And as much as Ichigo desperately wants to know the story of her promotion, he restrains himself, waiting for her to tell him. He know she will eventually, even if it takes her a while.

He would wait.

The silence fills the space between them, as though tangible in some way. It's thick and warm and not altogether unpleasant. They are together, the silence confirms. And for now, that is enough.

Thus, the moon rises amid that silence.

An impulse overtakes Rukia, remembering that helpless night on this very roof. Ignoring the sudden fluttering of her insides, she braces herself for what she must do, throwing a quick glance in his direction.

Deceptively nonchalant, her eyes to the sky, she places her hand atop his. His fingers are warm beneath hers. Startled, Ichigo looks at her, then he relaxes. For the first time since she left, he smiles. The most genuine and loving smile he has ever produced.

Finally, she turns, finding his beaming face. Her heart melts, and the fluttering dissipates. Unabashed, she returns the smile with one of her own. Just as brilliant, if not more.

In that moment, they know: no matter how great the obstacles, they will always find one another.


End file.
